


So This Is Love

by hazywentz



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Past Abuse, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-29 03:19:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11432061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazywentz/pseuds/hazywentz
Summary: Brendon Urie kept his life in a box. Hidden so that nobody would see it. On a September afternoon the man who runs the flower shop across the street walks in and decides to open that box. Both men discover that love will triumph, but destiny will forever remain.





	So This Is Love

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, I'm so sorry that I haven't posted in a while, so here I have something I was working on for a while now.

When I was younger, I wish that I could grow up and start a family. That someday I would live a perfect life with someone I loved and maybe, just maybe, we could have a kid or two and live a white picket fence life. Now, I sit in my room and watch the people of my town walk by. The town that I live in was small, but not small that you would run into a familiar face at shoprite. No, it was the kind of place where all the lonely people go to, I call those people Transporters. Why? Because they never stick around. They’re always going from one place to another in a matter of seconds. 

There’s no use in making friends in a town like this. 

Especially when you live in the middle of nowhere, to be specific, Elkton, Maryland. Sure, there were many people who lived here, but I never wanted to be here. Like most people, I wanted to travel and be someone someday, maybe even tour the world. I wanted to make music, create and inspire. When I was in third grade, my teacher once pulled me aside and asked, me,  
“What are you making there?” She would say, in a concerned mother tone.  
“I’m writing a story,” I would say to her, and she would sit down next to me and say how someday what I create will inspire the people. And since that moment in time, I’ve always wanted to create to inspire. So I did, I followed that motto for the next 16 years of my life, I would be chasing after that motto that soon became a dream. 

So what am I doing here, in Maryland, shelving books for a bookstore at 25? That’s a good question, I ask myself that every day. Well, almost everyday. Those days when I don’t ask myself that question I contemplate if whether or not I should try tying that noose again and seeing if I have enough money to cover the bill afterwards because I know that I will most likely fail once again. But those days I do ask myself what I am doing here, it usually ends up in me walking down the street to the ocean side. Watching how the waves crash ever so carelessly. 

I wish I could live like that. 

But right now, where I am, I am in my apartment packing some stuff to go to the beach. I don’t want to go to the beach, but it’s July, and why should I be moping around and not do anything? It took a lot of willpower just to muster up the energy to go out into the broad daylight and see those lonely faces. They would sometimes say hello and I would greet them back with a warm smile, making it seem like I’m not insane or a sociopath in general. They were the same people who would come into the store and try and convince me that they have a, “lovely daughter that would be interested in meeting a handsome young man such as yourself.” I would almost always decline the offer, there was one time where I did accept the offer.  
She was lovely, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t see her again after that. We became friends shortly after telling her my situation. I’ve known her now for three years, her name is Caroline. Caroline writes books about the moderately disturbed and the unforgivable. I loved to read them, especially when she made drafts. I would always tell her how much I admire her writing, how she was able to carefully lace words together in such a way you would have never thought of before. 

I wish I was like her; normal. 

Caroline has a boyfriend too, his name is Jude. Jude would sit down on my couch and tell Caroline and I how he got his name, his original name was Alexander, but he decided to go after his middle name from there on out. 

“Whenever I see a friend or go see family, they always make the same joke,”  
“What joke is that?” I would ask,  
“They would come up to me and say, ‘Hey, Jude!’ Like the Beatles song,”  
“Ah, well that makes sense.” And I would continue to sip my beer. 

Sometimes Caroline and Jude would get into fights, ugly fights. So Caroline would come stay at my place while she cried into a lavender pillow from my bed. It was usually about Jude drinking and staying out late at pubs with his friends. Jude never touched her, never did anything to her. So one night, when she came over to my apartment, I decided to ask her why she leaves. 

“My boyfriend before Jude, Ryan, was an alcoholic. Stereotypical, I know, but ever since that, I never liked to drink or have the people I love drink. Seeing Jude just come home late at night drunk off his ass just upsets me. We always fight about that, and I always leave because I’m scared. I don’t know what would happen if I stuck around and fought longer. I know he’s a good man, but then again, that’s what everyone said about Ryan.” 

I didn’t ask anymore questions that night. 

Jude and Caroline finally talked it out together, he promised that he would no longer get drunk, and he kept that promise. If someone were to ask me what love is, I would tell them about Caroline and Jude. As some people say, they’re a match made in heaven. 

There were some days where I would be working, and I see couples fighting outside of the store. Sometimes it would be belt up with rage, and other times it would be a mellow fight. But it always ended in someone getting hurt in the end. The other, would always walk away with a look of regret on their face, but they know that if they go back and say sorry, it would just disprove whatever they just said to the heartbroken other. Sometimes the heartbroken other would come into the store months later after the breakup, with someone new. Someone else to break their heart in the end. 

“Excuse me?”  
“Yes, how can I help you?”  
“Do you know where the Dan Brown books are?”  
“I do, down this aisle and on the left side, bottom shelf you should see it,”  
“Thank you,”  
“Of course.” 

There was one time I was on break, sipping a coffee from a down the street coffee place when someone walked in. I assumed his name was ‘Dallon’ because of the name tag. He came up to where I sat, and just stood there.

“Excuse me?”  
“Yes?”  
“Can you help me for a second?”  
“Well, I’m on break right now,”  
“I don’t need a book, I actually need something else,”  
“What exactly do you need?”  
“I need your opinion on something. See, I work at the flower shop across the street and I’m going to my cousins wedding this weekend. I can't decide between lavenders and lilacs, could you help?”  
“Well, I’m no florist, but I think so. Don’t you have any of your co-workers to help you with this?”  
“I do, but I decided to come get a more interesting source.” 

To me, this was outrageous, but this guy did seem in need of some help, so I went along with him to his store across the street. He opened the door for me, and a wave of lavender hit me. This guy really did like his lavender, it was strange. Not in a serial killer vibe kind of way, more like he was trying to tell something to everyone that came into the store. I’ll admit it, when I walked in and smelt the lavender, the first thing I thought was that it was his way of saying, “Welcome to the store, I’m gay, now buy my flowers.” 

In some respect, I was right. 

Except that day I didn’t buy any flowers. 

He had taken me to his small office space, and on his desk laid little trinkets of TV show characters, and some pictures. Friends, presumably family, and a dog. A little Corgi that sat on a felt white couch which a picture of a woman in swings sat with her big, oversized dress. Two men, who dressed in tight clothing and white hair stood beside them and gazed in appeal. One seemed to be pulling back rope of some sort, as if he was holding her in place, and the other, was lying down in the grass gazing at her as she flew into the sky, and then returned back to the Earth. 

“So, what do you think?” He said after explaining the theme of the wedding. It was supposed to be a, “magical wedding in a gorgeous forest extravaganza,” according to him and some pictures. 

“I think it should be the lilacs, they give it a more home feeling to it,”  
“You think so? I was leaning towards those more in all honesty.”  
“Well, you are the florist here,” he laughed, a good hearty laugh.  
“I’m so glad that I finally got the nerve to talk to you, though, there really is no intimidating qualities about yourself other than how you always have a look of discontent on your face, almost as if you have a year round expression of indignation,”  
“Hold on,” did he really think I was intimidating? How the hell could he think I, of all people, think I am intimidating? “Why would you ever think I’m intimidating?”  
“Would you like to know?”  
“Yes, I would like to know,”  
“How about I tell you over a cup of coffee Saturday afternoon, my treat,”  
“Dallon,” he couldn’t have been serious about this, “are you asking me on a date?”  
“Possibly, but, it could also be a great way to take this friendship about and possibly, I don’t know,” he grinned as he stepped closer, I could feel the air shift and soon tighten around my neck,  
“become closer?” 

I will never know what came over me that day, but I decided with a short answer;

“Fine. Saturday, 3 pm, and you have to pick me up.”  
“Sounds swell, by the way, what’s your name?”  
“You’re asking me to a date Saturday and you don’t even know my name?”  
“I never said it was a date, but perhaps,” that stupid goon, fuck him and his smile.  
“Brendon,” I huffed out in almost a laughing matter, “Brendon Urie.”  
“Dallon,” he said as he stuck his hand out, “Dallon Weekes,”  
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Weekes,”  
“As to you, Mr. Urie,” our hands met in a fond embrace, and I could feel the seeds of ever growing emotion new being planted. 

Saturday came rolling around. Quite literally, I had been tossing and turning all night about the 3pm “date,” or as Dallon had phrased it, “a quaint little gathering between two strangers.” I felt like there was something more to Dallon though, there was no way that he could have been content with his job as a florist. There was something about his aurora that gave a sense of mystery and maverick. 

I was lackluster compared to him. 

I rolled out of my bed around 12:30 and dragged myself to get into the shower and groom myself. The screeching of the shower snapped me right out of my hazen daydream that had still latched onto me from when I was sleeping. I stripped myself of my white t-shirt that had stains of wine and ramen from the previous night, and my red boxers. A soft thud could be heard from the clothing over the sound of water hitting the previously white, now alabaster bathtub. I climbed in and grabbed the curtain, proceeding to wash myself down with some soap a friend had bought for me as a present. 

I loved it. 

About an hour and a half later, I was ready to go. Why did it take so long? Well, going into an extensive period of panic attacks and depression take some time to get over before your day starts. As usual, I took my pills to calm myself down, ate some pancakes, and got dressed.  
If you asked anyone about how I dressed, they would most likely have said that I dress like every edgy teenager who was born in the early 00’s, wanting to be more 90’s and cool. They weren’t wrong, most of the stuff that I bought came from thrift shopping or digging through old family clothes. I found a fascination with older clothes, they told a story about the previous owner and you have the opportunity to wear that part of history that is now belonging to you. I rummaged through my closet to find a black t-shirt, some cuffed blue jeans, and my bleached out jean jacket. 

September made me feel at home. 

I glanced over at the clock. It read 2:45 now, shit he could be here any minute. I quickly got on a pair of old black and white converses. I’ve had them for a while now so trying to get dirt off was pointless at this rate. I sat down at my couch and waited, waited to hear the buzzer and spring to the door. Then only to play an unbothered persona. I could hear my heart pounding in my chest, what if he didn’t come? What if he doesn’t like me? What if he thinks that I’m a freak? 

2:50. God how time went by slow when you just want something to happen. 

I became so lost in thought that I didn’t hear the buzzer and spring up to the sound of it, wistfully opening it to greet him with a sarcastic undertone, but a grateful face. 

“Brendon?”  
“Coming!” Unlocking the door seemed like such a hard task now that I had something to look forward to. I swung the door open to reveal a taller and clean shaven man before me. He smelt of rain, fresh rain. What was it called again? Petrichor? Yes, that was it, petrichor.  
“Fancy seeing you here, Mr. Urie,”  
“As to you, Mr. Weekes, should we be on our way now?”  
“Yes, let’s go now,” he held his arm out in the way that men in the movies do to court a woman to a ball, in this case he was courting me to the town coffee shop, “shall we?”  
“Now Mr. Weekes, are you onto me?” I smiled and grasped his arm and put my other through it.  
“The possibilities are endless, Mr. Urie, and you might be one of them.” 

We didn’t stay in the shop itself, but we drove down to where the beach was. Dallon had a beach house down there for some reason. It was nice, a beautiful blue day with minimal clouds in the sky to accentuate the scene. I loved this type of weather, it was perfect to be with someone and wear something light, but heavy at the same time. We drove down the road while I sipped on my caramel latte, I sounded like a white girl but I’ve been getting that for as long as I could have remembered. Dallon was drinking black coffee, how could he have been drinking that? It was disgusting. 

“Frank Sinatra? Really?”  
“What? What’s wrong with him?”  
“Nothing at all, I’m just surprised that someone like you listens to him,”  
“I’m surprised that you even listen to him, you are younger than me after all,”  
“Only by six years,”  
“Still,” I started, “you just seem so modern and into new things, not into the old and vintage things,”  
“What, like you?”  
“Shut up.” 

At around 5:30 we got to the beach. The people were starting to leave, some had stayed for those classic beach dates or proposals. The sun was setting at the most perfect time, so no proposing now would have been a mistake for anyone. Bursts of orange and red bled into the sky, the clouds now no longer white, but were golden with the shadows complimenting them. Dallon parked the car in the lot, and we walked. 

“So, tell me, what are you doing here?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well, you don’t seem like the kind of person to settle down in Maryland in all places, so tell me, what is it that you really want to do?”  
“I should be asking you these questions if anything, you are the one who asked me on the ‘date’ after all,”  
“You’re right, but I asked you first.” Fuck this guy.  
“Fine, well I was actually born in Vegas, grew up in the church. Mormon that is, the mormon church, you would have never guessed. When I was old enough, I left the church and told my parents I was going to make music, they were upset but were supportive. To this day, I write my own music and play instruments of all kinds to find my sound. I never fit in with the church though, I went against what most of the teachings were, and I just never felt right in there,” 

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Dallon stepped a closer to me, he was silent for a minute, the only sound that could be heard was the sound of the waves crashing against each other, “what do you mean?”  
“I’m still trying to figure myself out, it’s been a confusing and long road. When I lived in Vegas, I would sneak out to bars late at night with promiscuous people from school or drag queens that I met at bars from previous nights. My life was filled with ecstasy, curiosity, and mistakes. When the night was over, and I would be lying next to a stranger or two, I would keep asking myself who am I? What will I ever do with my life? So I packed my bags, left the scene, and moved here. I thought I could start my life over again and maybe, just maybe, clear my head. Of course, that didn’t work, and here I am now still puzzled as to what I’m doing here.” 

Goddamn I sounded so pathetic, fucking helpless. 

“I understand.” What? “When I was growing up I didn’t know who I was either. Straight, gay, bisexual, pansexual, it was all news to me. I never wanted to be who I was, and I never wanted to have to go through life like I did. But, in the end I am happy where I am at with my life. So what if you’re still trying to get through to yourself? It’s all a process, it takes time. Don’t feel pressured to fit into a certain label just to conform to something you don’t yet know much about. Be your own label.”  
“You amaze me, Dallon, and we have only known each other for a couple of days,”  
“What can I say, I have a way with people.”  
“Hey, how about we take our shoes off and hop into the water?”  
“Now? But it’s freezing,”  
“Dallon, are you telling me that you’re too scared to go in?”  
“Don’t be ridiculous. In fact,” Dallons socks and shoes were kicked off in a matter of seconds, the jacket he was wearing was now on the floor as well as his shirt and jeans, “I will go one step further.”  
“Do you think I won’t do the same?”  
“Yes, I do,”  
“Think again, Weekes.” 

Before I even knew it, we were surrounded by ocean water from the neck down. The sun was silhouetting Dallons hair, seeming as if it was a mahogany colour. Sky blue eyes completely contrasting with his hair to give a sudden appeal to it. Dallons face was the kind where you have to look at it for a long period of time and study how it moves, how it works, all the small aspects of his face that made it be. Soon, you found yourself staring at it and falling in love with it. 

“If you splash me, I will kill you,” Dallon brought his hand up slightly and flicked some water at me. That asshole.  
“You asked for it,”  
“Fuck you man, now you’ve brought on a storm,”  
“Oh no, I am so scared,” With all force that I could possibly muster, I splashed Dallon That was a big mistake considering we were then in a full fledge splashing fight. We went on until the both of us lost our breath from laughing so hard. The two of us were completely soaked now, that was a given. I stood there, looking at the sunset, not even noticing Dallon inching closer to me.  
“What do you think you’re doing?”  
“Something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.” 

He was passion, heat, lust. His lips against mine spoke to me in a thousand ways that I never dreamt of before. I was in utter paradise, never had I felt like this before. How he held me in the water, now felt so cold around us because of the profound heat exerting between us. I could feel his hands slowly wrap around my waist, and my legs wrapping around his. I could feel myself being lifted up slightly, being pressed closer and closer to Dallon. 

“Shit,” We gasped for breath and touched foreheads, “that was so good,”  
“Want more?”  
“Is that even a question?” 

His lips were now attacking my neck, how sweet he was. And oh how I wanted to have more and more with every little touch and kiss at my neck, chest, collarbone. This man was making me go crazy and I wasn’t sure if I could handle it. Something told me that my lonely days were over. My eyes rolled in the back of my head and I began to forget everything that my heart was wrapped up in for year and years at a time. 

I found myself a dream. 

Unknowingly, I was grinding my hips into his chest, moaning with everything that he had given me. 

“Say my name, baby, say it like you wear it on your sleeve,”  
“Dallon, don’t you fucking stop or I’ll,”  
“You’ll what?”  
“I’ll splash water on you,” 

He didn’t stop. We stayed like that for a while longer until we were content with ourselves, or just became too cold. We grabbed all our stuff from the shore and headed back to the car. This time, hand in hand. 

“I thought that this wasn’t a date,”  
“Looks like there was a turn of events. Why, are you complaining?”  
“Not in the slightest,” 

We drove home, but this time we sang to the radio together. All the way home, might I add. It was a little before 11 when we got to my apartment and I had walked into my room with his blanket and towel wrapped around me. I began to take it off and hand it to him before he stopped me. 

“Keep it, and here,” he pulled a small piece of paper out of his pocket, “call me.”  
“Oh,” I took the paper and smiled at it, “I will make sure of it. Thank you, Dallon, I had a lovely night with you.”  
“As I did with you, sleep well and have a good day tomorrow,”  
“To you too, Mr. Weekes.” Then he disappeared into the night, but not without a kiss on my cheek before taking off to the stairs. “I hope you know there’s an elevator!” I called as I laughed.  
“Oh I am very aware love, I would just like to savor the moment! Good night!” 

Then he was gone. Just like that. 

I locked my door behind me and set the towel and blanket on a chair where the table stood. God, he was a dream. I can’t believe that I went out on a date, with a man too. Never before had a felt  
what I felt with Dallon tonight. But wait, he said he was going to answer my question. That little shit. I quickly pulled out the paper with his number on it and grabbed the nearest phone. I waited for him to pick up the phone, hearing that annoying ringing. 

“Hello?”  
“Dallon, you never answered my question,”  
“Brendon? Yes what question was that?”  
“Why did you find my intimidating?”  
“Well, after working across from you for quite some time, you would think I would see you and hope you’d go on a date with me,”  
“So, you asking me about those flowers,”  
“Was a way for me to talk to you? Yes. You see Brendon, you intimidate me because you are everything but ordinary, and I wanted more.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought! Thank you everyone so much. 
> 
> -Jess


End file.
